


A Path Lit By Fireflies

by Milieu



Category: Rune Factory (Video Games), Rune Factory 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dissociation, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Slice of Life, Supernatural Illnesses, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milieu/pseuds/Milieu
Summary: Things go wrong in the Forest of Beginnings. The Guardian returns but the Earthmate doesn't, and Selphia is left to pick up the pieces.A series of vignettes with no particular plot to explore what might have been.





	1. Beginnings and Endings

**Author's Note:**

> I've been replaying RF4 again and got to thinking about how things might have gone if Lest/Frey hadn't been rescued by Ventuswill at the end of the first arc. I don't have any concrete plans with this, just looking to do short character and semi-plot bits as they come. More character, story, and relationship tags will be added as they become relevant.
> 
> Also note that while this first chapter is in first person, the rest won't be.

One year. That's how long I've been in my new home.

In just one year, I've gotten to know everyone pretty well. We've all laughed together. We've cried together too - especially Mr. Volkanon. We held festivals, and they were a lot of fun even when they didn't go quite as expected.

In one year, I saw four bountiful harvests. I felt the earth and let it speak to me. I began to understand - or maybe I relearned - what it meant to be an Earthmate.

I have heard the voices of the runes. I've seen them in their abundance.

I've seen what happens when they begin to disappear, and I can't let it come to pass.

In just one year, I made a new best friend. Her name was - is - Ventuswill. Venti. I've learned of the sacrifices made by the four people before me who also called Venti their best friend. I've seen the pain that it caused her. I've done all I could, knowingly or not, to bring them back so that I could ease her pain.

I succeeded.

And now, just one year after we met, I have to hurt Venti again.

I only got to spend one year in my new home, with my best friend.

I'm sorry for it, but I have no regrets.

I gave my message to Leon. I know that my feelings will reach Venti just as hers reached the Guardians all across the years. I'm truly grateful to her for being my friend when I had none in this strange new land.

And now... all I can do is wait.

Just like the Guardians waited, all those years. Wait for someone else to find a way through, in the future. Wait and hope that I'll still be here and still be me when they do.

Sometimes hope is all you have. I'm sure that's how Venti felt too, when she realized that I was an Earthmate.

I'm sorry, Venti. But I know that you'll understand why I had to do what I did. And I know that you and the Guardians and all of the other people in Selphia will search for a way, because that's what we would do if it were any of them.

I hope to see your smile again someday, Venti.

And until then, I'll be waiting.


	2. Resurrection Sickness

The first things Leon does upon waking in the clinic are try to sit up, fall out of bed instead of sitting up, puke, and immediately pass out again. Jones and Nancy are kind enough to not remind him of any of this when he wakes up for the second time.

It's just- there's so much  _awareness_ in his being now. Tactile sensation from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, and no numb spots in between unless he lays in the same position too long and starts getting pins and needles. He had never imagined that the sensation of having your arm fall asleep because you laid on it weird would be something akin to nostalgic for him. He can feel his eyelids when he closes them. He can run his tongue over his teeth, and enjoy how gulping down water refreshes the taste of his mouth.

He pokes and prods at himself when left alone in quiet moments, exploring his own body as though he has never inhabited it before. There's the old scar on his forearm from slipping on some rocks as a kid. There's the way he can feel one side of his mouth lift higher than the other when he grins. There's the whispery weight of his hair sliding over his shoulders when he pushes it back from his face.

The ears and tail are new, but Leon is just as aware and in control of them as any other part of his body. Everything is so unfamiliar and overwhelming that the new additions honestly don't feel any stranger than the rest of him.

It takes much longer for his body to start listening to him again than for him to recognize it. He catches bits and pieces of conversation between the doctor and his wife, and a small assortment of other voices. It doesn't take long for Leon to peg these newer voices as the ones who followed in his footsteps; he is still not certain of how he feels about their existence.

He wonders once or twice if any of them blame him for the Earthmate's fate - if Venti blames him - and even he isn't conniving enough to convince himself that it doesn't matter if they do.

He understands from these overheard conversations that the illness of his readjustment period is taking longer to pass than it did for any of them. That doesn't surprise him so much; more than anything, it's irritating to barely be able to hobble out of his clinic bed and to endure bland rice and porridge and nutrient supplements because his stomach barely recognizes proper food anymore.

However, it isn't until Leon is told that he's well enough to move out of the clinic that the real dread settles in.

He is well, they say. He's recovered. Ventuswill is waiting for him.

It isn't the prospect of facing Venti that he dreads.

They can say that he's well all they want, but he still doesn't feel like himself, and when he steps out into Selphia for the first time since his return, it is also the first time that Leon really considers that he might never truly feel like himself again.

That's when the dizziness hits him. Jones catches him before he can fall, and they cart him back inside so he can lay down, and Leon supposes that things have come full circle now.

The prospect of sleeping always bored him. Moreover, he's just woken up from sleeping for hundreds of years. But just this once, the world is overwhelming enough that letting it fade away again for a while isn't so bad.


	3. Crazy Like A Fox

Selphia was always beautiful in the spring.

It wasn't Leon's favorite season, but in that sweet spot where the weather was warm but not too humid, when all the trees were blooming and blanketing the town with a pink and white mock snowfall, he could appreciate it. For a little while, he could even make himself believe that it was the only reason he was lounging on the inn's steps as evening slowly and quietly stole over the town. He had a little dish of rice wine, gifted to him by the inn's owner because she had accidentally ordered a surplus, and he had just about figured out how to drink from the saucer-cup-thing without spilling the drink on himself. Sipping slowly, basking in the soft light of streetlamps (electricity had not proved very difficult for him to get used to, surprisingly enough) and the occasional blink of a firefly or two weaving by, he could almost believe that the warm air and the alcohol were the only reasons his head felt fuzzy.

The foxes, pale fur almost glowing in the low light, nosed their way around the path in front of the inn. As Leon watched, one of them - he thought it was Sano, but wasn't actually sure if it was, or if he had even called them by the right names in the first place or gotten it mixed up at some point - lifted its head and snapped at an insect buzzing past.

The inn's front door slid open, and the innkeeper's daughter stepped out. She sighed and stretched, making a relieved sound as her neck audibly popped. 

Leon considered her a moment, before calling out. "Hey, you."

She turned towards him, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

"I have a name, yes?"

Leon thought of a pithy reply, but swallowed it. "Xiao Pai."

"Yes?"

He gestured towards a spot on the steps near him, and she approached, taking a seat while giving him a curious look.

He pointed at the path, where the foxes continued to pad about. "Tell me what you see there."

Xiao Pai followed his gaze. "...I see the foxes. And flowers blooming. Fireflies." She glanced back at him to see if this was the sort of answer he was looking for.

Leon took another gulp of wine and leaned back on his elbows. "Good, so you see them too."

"The foxes? It seems so."

Nobody had really said anything about the foxes before, when they bothered to appear. Leon had half-suspected he might be hallucinating. Not that he was going to ask anyone directly. The people of Selphia weren't quite at ease with him. Venti had said to give it time, for his sake and the townsfolk's. Privately, he doubted that any amount of time would be enough for some of them to separate his presence with the distinct lack of Selphia's former acting princess.

"Well, if you're seeing them, then they're real." Leon's lip curled into a smirk. "Or we're both equally crazy."

She gave him a sidelong look, but took a moment to mull over her reply. "I don't think you are crazy."

"Oh? What about yourself?"

Xiao Pai rolled her eyes. "I don't think I am crazy either."

"Everyone's a little bit crazy. Sometimes you have to be, to keep on living in the world."

She didn't reply to that right away. Leon wasn't sure what had compelled him to say it. He searched for something lighthearted to follow it up with, but before he could Xiao Pai reached over and laid her hand on his arm.

She still didn't say anything, but Leon abruptly and embarrassingly felt choked up anyways.

When he didn't verbally respond, Xiao Pai spoke quietly. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, yes? But it seems that if you do, I'd be happy to listen."

 _I don't know you,_ Leon wanted to say.  _I don't know if I can ever know you, or anyone._

Instead, he changed the subject. "It seems-" he started to say, and then had to pause and wheeze a brief chuckle at himself for copying her speech patterns. Xiao Pai inclined her head towards him, indicating he should continue. "It seems that nobody wants to tell me about her."

"Frey," Xiao Pai said after a moment.

"Yes. The Earthm-" Leon cut himself off. She had a name. 

No one is truly dead as long as someone speaks their name.

"Frey," Leon agreed.

Xiao Pai leaned back against the steps, keeping one hand on his arm. Looking up at the sky as it darkened to ink black and tiny stars winked into existence, she nodded as though coming to a decision.

"Around one year ago, Frey fell out of the sky and met Lady Ventuswill..."


	4. Routine

Forte woke before dawn, like always. She washed her face and brushed her hair up into its ponytail like always, dined like always, and then dressed and armored herself like always.

She made her morning patrol as usual. There were reports of problematic monsters near the western road; not a constant occurrence, but a more common one these days.

These days, where every break in the constant routine was a reminder that things used to be both more spontaneous and more stable.

The seasons were slowly beginning to change, spring to summer, the air growing warmer and heavy with pollen. Just like it happened year after year. The wind whispered what should have been a promise of bountiful harvest, but there was nobody to tend the fields.

Forte gave her men their orders and stopped for lunch, like always. Her mechanical devotion to the routine was interrupted when she saw _him_ there in the restaurant.

Leon. His name was Leon. The tower in the west was named after him.

(The tower from which Frey had never returned was named after him.)

It wasn't the first time she had inadvertently come across him around town in the course of her personal duties, nor the tenth, but every time it gave her pause. Every time, it made her unreasonably angry, that he should be here when Frey wasn't. She never spoke of it; it was a cruel and bitter thought, to want someone who had given up so much for the good of the land traded back for another just because Forte had known Frey and been her friend.

Leon caught Forte's eye, and she gave him a curt nod. He returned the gesture, mouth turned up in a bemused half-smile, like he wasn't sure what to make of her. Xiao Pai was there dining with him, and she gave Forte a proper smile. Forte took notice of the familiar way Xiao Pai rested her hand on Leon's arm and wondered about it, then made herself stop wondering and went back to her lunch.

She dispatched the encroaching monsters like always, did her afternoon patrols like always, and went to the training grounds to burn away the last few hours of the day with sweat and movement so that she didn't have to think. She visited the bathhouse like always, went home and had dinner with Kiel like always, and retired to bed like always.

And as she always did lately, Forte cried herself to sleep.


	5. The Long Road

Checkups with Jones and Nancy had become a regular thing for Leon in the weeks (Months? Was it months now? All too often, the passage of time still didn't feel real.) since his return. The quiet, formal girl -- the first person to follow in his footsteps -- tended to linger around the clinic when he was there. She gave him sidelong looks more than she spoke to him, but despite Leon's initial assumptions, he had come to understand that her gaze laid no blame on him.

It was all the more curious that it didn't, really, but Dolce was never very responsive when he tried to strike up conversation.

"And how have you been sleeping?" Jones asked, as per the established routine.

"Oh, fine. No problems there," Leon replied. There were still mornings when he woke with his head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton and his stomach tied in knots, but the sleeping itself was fine.

Jones looked at him for a moment, as though waiting on Leon to elaborate on that unspoken point, but he didn't, and Jones finally dropped his eyes to scribble something else down on his chart. Leon could only assume that they had a rapidly-growing file on him tucked away somewhere.

"Is there anything else we might be able to do for you?"

Leon smiled. "You're doing more than enough already." And he didn't think that the doctor and nurse, or anybody else for that matter, could magic away the buzzing fog that still plagued him from time to time.

"Alright," Jones said, seeming reluctant. It was obvious that he wanted to prod some more but knew that it would do no good. "Well, that does it for today, then. You can go about your business."

"Thank you," Leon said as Jones turned away to take care of his own business. He stayed where he was sitting for several minutes after Jones had vacated the room, gazing absently at the patterns formed by the wood grain on the wall. If he looked from a certain angle, they seemed to form faces. One looked a bit like Xiao Pai; he'd tell her about it later to see if it made her indignant.

Reality intruded upon him in the form of Dolce entering the room with an armful of medical supplies, which she began organizing in the cabinet after sparing Leon only a glance. Suddenly aware of just how long he had been zoned out, Leon stood. He paused as he moved to pass her and leave; it wasn't in his nature, really, to go without saying anything.

"Did you need something else?" Dolce asked without looking up from what she was doing. Her voice was almost startling in the quiet.

"I suppose not," Leon said, then hesitated. Dolce stilled and straightened up, turning to glance over her shoulder at him in silent question.

"...How long did it take for you?" He asked. "Until you felt... better."

Dolce's focus moved away from Leon and instead to her folded hands as she considered.

"A long while," she said finally. "It was... difficult to keep track of just how long."

Leon nodded. "It'll... be even longer for me, I suppose."

"That seems to be the pattern," Dolce confirmed.

How long, how long, until he would be himself again? He wasn't sure if he could really remember what "himself" felt like in the first place. How would he know when he was well again?

When he no longer found himself at a loss for words, perhaps. When he didn't have these questions that he couldn't bring himself to voice.

Dolce interrupted his thoughts again, and Leon was thankful. "Is there anything else?"

"Do you wish she was still here?" The question was spoken before Leon fully realized it.

Dolce closed her eyes for a moment, brow furrowing as she clasped her hands. "Of course." When she looked at him again, it was finally with the reproach he had been expecting. Her next words, though, weren't.

"That doesn't mean that I wish you weren't here."

"Ah," Leon said, more a sigh than a true response. A question half-formed, but never quite made it to his lips.

Dolce pursed her lips at him. "Venti would still be suffering if you weren't, you know. Is your life not worth as much as anyone else's?"

He didn't think he ever would get used to being rendered speechless.

Leon had given a lot of thought about the worth of a life, of course. He had sacrificed himself to save one life with no hesitation, knowing that in preserving one, he was saving countless others as well.

And unknowingly condemning three- four others with the precedent he had set.

The look in Venti's eyes when he first saw her again had been too reminiscent of Maria's expression when Leon turned away from her for the last time and entered the tower. He hadn't thought about what he might be to other people until it was too late, and in the face of what he was doing, how could he weigh his own life against Norad itself?

He had laid down in the sarcophagus and closed his eyes for what seemed likely to be the last time, and he had thought he wouldn't have to answer any of those questions. Time made fools of everyone.

Dolce cleared her throat when Leon stayed silent too long, gaze focusing on some point beyond her rather than on her face. He blinked, and he was in the clinic again.

"Go get some fresh air," she said in a tone that made it sound more like a command than a suggestion. "Take your foxes for a walk or something." Her expression softened just slightly before she turned away and went back to organizing the supplies she had brought in.

"This is reality, Leon. Go experience it. It'll help."

He couldn't argue with her, of course, so he did as he was told.


	6. A Quiet Place

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" Leon inquired as he followed Xiao Pai down the path. He hefted the picnic basket that he'd quickly claimed from her over one arm to free his hand so that he could attend to an itch behind one ear. Uno and Sano followed at their heels, now and then darting off the path to chase some insect or small animal.

"I said you'll see, yes?" Xiao Pai replied. She carried the picnic blanket draped over one shoulder so that she could still feel as though she wasn't forcing Leon to carry everything, even if he had insisted on taking the basket in the first place. She had handed the basket over easily, reasoning that if she stumbled, as was likely, at least the food wouldn't go with her.

The winding path out to Sercerezo Hill was still lined with flowering trees, though the trees in Selphia were steadily shedding their blooms and taking on the vibrant green of summer. When Xiao Pai glanced back at Leon, she noted with amusement that a few stray petals had gotten caught in his hair without his noticing. She didn't point them out to him.

"It seems that it's been a while since I've been out here," she said as they walked. "The monsters were quite wild for a while, but it seems they've calmed down."

"Hm. Well if we run into any, I hope you're a good sprinter. I haven't had a chance to practice much with magic lately, so I can't promise I'll be any use in a crisis." Leon smirked in a way that she had come to recognize. He only smiled just like that when smoothing over a moment of inner turmoil.

It was one of the reasons why she had wanted to take him here, in honesty. She liked his other faces better, and she'd had an idea.

"Here," Xiao Pai said softly when they emerged into the clearing. "Set the basket down there, yes?" She set about spreading the blanket on the grass. Once it was spread out to her satisfaction, Xiao Pai settled on it cross-legged and looked up at Leon, who was still standing at the blanket's edge. "Hm? Sit." She patted the spot next to her and waited until he did so to begin unloading the picnic basket.

She had packed a generous supply of steamed buns, rice, and containers of juice, and they ate in companionable silence, accompanied only by the wind rustling the trees. Xiao Pai started when she felt Leon's fingers brush through her hair, and when she turned to look at him, he held up a small flower.

"It blew off one of the trees," he explained. He tucked it behind her ear instead of tossing it away. Xiao Pai laughed.

"Hold still, yes?" Leon raised his eyebrows at her but obeyed, and she picked the petals she had noticed earlier out of his hair, letting the breeze carry them away when she was through. Leon watched them go, and she was glad to note that he looked amused. Amused was better than annoyed (though annoyed would also have been better than when he just looked lost, or when he smiled like he was in pain).

"Why did you invite me out?" He asked sometime later, when they'd put all the food away and were both laid back on the blanket relaxing, the foxes curled up to nap nearby. "I'm afraid if you're going to confess your undying love, I have a previous engagement."

Xiao Pai snorted, as she figured he had intended for her to react rather than wondering if there was any truth to those words. "It seems I thought it would be nice. The town can be noisy, yes? It seems that it bothers you."

Leon folded one arm behind his head and the other across his stomach, considering. "Sometimes," he admitted.

"I like to come to places like this when I want to feel quiet."

"I had never heard of 'quiet' being a feeling before," Leon quipped, but his tone wasn't as sardonic as it might have been.

"Close your eyes and try it, yes?" Xiao Pai glanced over after a moment to see that he had done so, and sat up. Leon's brow furrowed slightly when he felt her hand on his forehead, sliding his hat off and brushing through his hair, then down over his face to smooth the lines of concentration. "Keep your eyes closed, hm? Relax. It seems you don't need to think so much all the time."

Leon mumbled something that she didn't catch, but it sounded vaguely sarcastic. She let it go without comment, still tracing the shape of his face and then his tattoos. He was handsome, and Xiao Pai felt something like victorious that she could be close to him without feeling butterflies. She had never really had a friend who was also a man before without the suggestion that he was a potential boyfriend, when she thought about it. It was probably inevitable that someone would say as much with them. The prospect neither displeased her, nor did it make her fear for what might become of this fledgling friendship were it to be suggested. An interesting thought in itself, that.

It wasn't that she felt that way towards him, nor that she planned for things to turn that way. Leon had needed a friend, desperately and obviously enough that Xiao Pai had taken it upon herself to be that friend without worrying about the finer details too much. It was surprisingly easy to simply _do_ things when she didn't let herself overthink.

She flicked the tip of one of his ears, giggling when it twitched in response and Leon's expression briefly turned perturbed before relaxing again. "I wanted to show you, so that you can come here when you want to feel quiet, yes?"

"You say that, and yet here you are hassling me," Leon said, cracking his eyes open to look at her with mock irritation.

"It seems someone ought to give you a taste of your own concoction."

"My own medicine, you mean." Leon's mouth twitched into a smile, the kind that she liked.

"Yes, that." Xiao Pai pulled away from him to sit back, leaning on her hands.

They stayed there, trading occasional quips and conversation. Leon's responses grew softer and slower until Xiao Pai got only a sigh in return when she spoke, and she was satisfied that he had fallen asleep. It was the first time that she had really seen him look peaceful.


	7. Conviction

Doug didn't get much sleep these days, and when he did, he didn't sleep well.

Well, if he were being truthful, he hadn't slept well since- that day. Finally saying it out loud, finally telling the truth, having to declare Frey his enemy, had only made things worse.

And then Frey had sacrificed herself to restore the dragon.

The whole town had mourned, and Doug had wanted to scream at them that they were only insulting her memory by letting the monster that had tricked her still lord over Selphia. Since the truth about the Guardians had come out, Doug had avoided them all like the plague, even Dylas who had previously been so fun to poke at and insult. They'd all been tricked just like Frey had, and even now they were content to wander around in their delusion, never stopping to question the lies that Ventuswill had fed them.

Couldn't anyone but Doug see how she was using everyone to preserve herself?

Of course not. Only he knew the truth, and he'd never be able to convince them. That was why he had to stand alone. He had to wait for his moment to strike, and then he would flee and never return to this place.

He didn't know where he would go after. He had no home to return to.

Doug lay awake at night, clutching the sword that he kept hidden beneath his bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting, planning. It was a pity about Frey. More of a pity than the other Guardians. Sometimes he wished he'd made an effort to get to know her so that Ventuswill wouldn't have found it so easy to manipulate her. She could have been a valuable ally in his quest.

To hell with the rest of the Guardians. They'd made their choices of their own will as far as any could tell, but Frey- Frey had been vulnerable. Frey hadn't known who she was. She had been easy pickings for the dragon.

As numb as Doug thought he had become to emotional turmoil, it still hurt to think that he might have had a chance to save her.

Even after years of planning and waiting for his revenge, he still spent far too much time wondering what might have been. With his family, his old friends, and now with Frey. Helplessness was the bitterest pill to swallow. That was just another reason why he had to do it.

He couldn't save his family, and he couldn't save Frey, but maybe he could save himself and the rest of Selphia, even though they wouldn't thank him for it.

When he struck the final blow, he'd think of her along with his long-gone loved ones, and maybe then he'd feel something like peace.


	8. Coming Up For Air

When he first got to Selphia, Dylas had been shocked at how easy it was to fall into a routine there. Sure, everyone was all smiley and annoying, and he'd wanted to punt Doug across town any chance he got, but... well, it was easy. He couldn't say he felt at home or like he really belonged, but sooner rather than later, it was almost like he wasn't an outsider.

Then the princess went and got herself killed.

Well. He shouldn't say it like that. Think it. Whatever. There was a chance...

But Dylas had never been one for flights of fancy, and he took some kind of pride in being down to earth when everyone else was getting carried away. The truth was, Frey was gone, and with all she had gone through to even get to the tower in the first place, it didn't seem likely that she was coming back.

It... he didn't know how he felt about it. Not good, obviously, but...

Well, he hadn't known her. Not really. She'd been friendly to him, but Dylas wouldn't have called her a friend. Just a neighbor who liked to smile.

Maybe he should have been hurting. Everyone else seemed to be, no matter how they tried to hide it. Dylas might have been a bit dumb, in his own estimation, but he wasn't blind. Margaret, Arthur, Porcoline... even the regular guests at the restaurant, to say nothing of the other townsfolk. They might have put on smiles to get through the day, but there was that unspoken grief between them all.

Dylas didn't like it. It made him uncomfortable. It made him feel left out, bizarre and unreasonable as that was. But there was nothing he could do about it. Dylas had no talent with words, no gentle comforting touch. All he could do was go about his day and try to keep things from falling apart whenever someone else stumbled under the weight of their mourning.

So he got up early. He helped Porcoline get the kitchen ready for the day, and he served everything flawlessly -- or as flawlessly as one could when they had to battle the chef for his own cooking, at any rate. He delivered Arthur's lunch and then his dinner and scolded him to remember to eat and not stay up too late. He did the same for Margaret, poked and prodded at her a little when she seemed too lost in her own thoughts, and was secretly pleased with himself when she snapped out of it and scolded him in turn.

One afternoon, she turned back to him after their usual back and forth had concluded said, "You can call me Meg, you know. All my friends do."

He hadn't known what to say to that, so he just grumbled and went back to work. But she had smiled at him for the rest of the afternoon, and her performance seemed a bit livelier than it had been after that, so he supposed that was a success.

Dylas cleaned the restaurant. He listened to guests compliment Porcoline's cooking, even when they barely got a bite of it themselves, and he passed those compliments on. He made sure to tell Porcoline off for eating most of the food too, of course, but it never seemed to deter the man. He caught sight of that man -- Leon -- across the restaurant and greeted him normally. Like any other guest.

What else was there to do? Dylas had been a Guardian too. That, at least, was something he could understand.

Leon hadn't known Frey either.

It was surprisingly easy, being the one to keep things running. He thought that maybe it shouldn't have been. Maybe there was something wrong with him, that he wasn't suffering as almost everyone else seemed to be. But what could he do about it if there was? He tried not to dwell on it.

One evening, as Dylas was busily wiping down the tables, Porcoline approached and laid one beefy hand on his arm.

"I can take it from here, Dylas. You've more than earned the night off."

"Oh." Dylas stopped short, still halfway through the motion of cleaning the table top. "...What should I do, then?"

Porcoline smiled, eyes glimmering with amusement; it had taken a while for Dylas to realize it wasn't at his expense when Porcoline made that face. "Whatever you want, of course! That's the point of a night off."

Dylas ran through all of the things one could possibly do with an evening free around town and quickly came to the conclusion that he wasn't especially interested in doing any of them. The night fishing around Selphia was good, but it wasn't quite night yet. "I'm fine. I'm almost done, anyway."

"Dylas." Porcoline's tone dropped somewhat, losing a bit of its lightness. "I'm telling you to take the night off."

Dylas paused fully at that, mouth creasing into a frown. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, no! No, no, no." Porcoline quickly backtracked. "But you've been working yourself very hard lately. You need a break, even if you don't realize it."

Dylas opened his mouth to protest, realized how much he would have sounded like Arthur when told he needed to leave his work for a moment, and thought better of it. "I don't really... have anything to do if I'm not working," he confessed.

Porcoline's smile returned. "You don't have to do anything. That's the point. Take a walk, clear your head. Go have a chat with a friend, perhaps. Have a snack!" Porcoline produced an apple from his own voluminous pockets and brandished it in Dylas's face. Dylas was caught off-guard enough by Porcoline willingly offering someone else food instead of immediately devouring itself that he had no choice but to take it.

He cupped both hands around the apple, looking at Porcoline uncertainly. "Thanks," he said, not knowing what else to say. They remained standing there for a moment, neither making a move to leave.

After a minute, Porcoline sighed. "Is something bothering you?"

"No?" Dylas said, not quite sure of the answer itself. "I mean... I guess something is kind of bothering everyone, but I don't..." He shrugged helplessly, looking away from Porcoline's now-searching gaze. "I don't know," he said finally. "Everyone's sad, still. It makes sense that they are, I mean, but I'm... not? I think?" He looked back, as though Porcoline would have some kind of answer to a question that Dylas couldn't even form.

Porcoline's expression was gentle. "Everyone grieves differently, Dylas."

"But I'm not-" Dylas stumbled over his words, frustration welling in his chest. His grip clenched down on the apple, only letting up when he realized he was bruising it. Dylas rubbed the abused fruit against his shirt with a quiet grumble. "I didn't know her," he said finally. "I don't know how I feel. Everyone else is sad, and I don't think I'm as sad, so I'm just... trying to keep going, I guess. If I can't feel the right way, I might as well not be useless."

"Oh, Dylas." Porcoline stepped forward. He made to lay his hands on Dylas's face, realized that would be a rather literal reach, and grasped him by the upper arms instead. When he smiled, there was that same tinge of sadness that Dylas had come to expect from almost everyone in town, but there was something else too.

"You've been doing a wonderful job," Porcoline said, meeting Dylas's eyes with an open, earnest gaze. "You've been a great help to  _moi,_ and Meggy and Arthur, and all the guests in the restaurant. We couldn't keep things running without you."

Dylas fidgeted under the praise, feeling his face redden. Porcoline's grasp on his arms was surprisingly strong, keeping him from pulling away.

"I'm so proud of you," Porcoline said, emotion thickening his voice. "I can only imagine what you and the others have gone through, and now to deal with this... You've been doing beautifully. Don't ever think that you'd be useless if you weren't working. It's enough just to have you here."

"Oh," Dylas mumbled. He had no idea what to say in the face of... all of that. Nobody had ever said anything approaching the magnitude of Porcoline's words to him before.

"...Thanks," he said finally, surprised at how tight his throat felt. Damn. Maybe he was feeling something after all.

Porcoline smiled and released Dylas's arms, stepping back. He picked up the rag Dylas had left on the table as he did so. "Go on, and have a restful evening. I'll take care of things here."

Dylas nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak. He moved to clean up some things in his path as he left, but Porcoline waved him off and ushered him out the restaurant's front door. Dylas found himself standing outside as the sun dipped over the horizon. With summer in full swing now, the crickets and cicadas were out in force, their songs mingling in the warm, heavy air.

Glancing down, Dylas realized that he was still clutching the apple. Seeing nothing better to do with it, he took a bite. It was crisp and juicy, just a bit tart in the way that he liked fruit to be. He wondered, briefly, if Porcoline had been saving it for him, and he was embarrassed even to wonder. He'd never been very good at being left alone with his own thoughts.

With nowhere to go and nothing to do that was especially pressing, Dylas ended up finding a bench to sit on. He watched the sun set and the sky darken as stars and fireflies winked into existence, leisurely finishing off the apple. Kiel and Arthur passed by, chatting about something, and both gave him a cheery greeting and a wave. Dylas waved back before leaning back to rest his arms on the back of the bench. He wasn't sure what to do with the apple's core once he had eaten it down, so he just held onto it.

Hell, maybe he'd plant the seeds somewhere. They had a whole field they weren't using now.

Maybe he should have felt guilty, thinking that. He hadn't known Frey, but somehow, he didn't think she would have taken offense. Wasn't it better, to use the land she'd cultivated rather than letting it sit and fall back to ruin?

That train of thought certainly led somewhere, and Dylas wasn't sure he was quite ready to follow it, but he couldn't un-think his thoughts. They just stayed there, not yet nagging, but not leaving him alone, either.

Well. He'd think about it, at any rate.


End file.
